


Sit, Stay

by ohmyohpioneer



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:52:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyohpioneer/pseuds/ohmyohpioneer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t sit quite right with her, this sudden winter, of course, but also the ease with which this whole situation has come under her control - with only minimal griping from Grumpy.</p>
<p>That is, until Killian walks into the crowded auditorium with a shivering, black lab puppy tucked under his leather jacket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit, Stay

It’s a few weeks after they return from their adventures in the Enchanted Forest when a storm knocks out whatever qualifies as the grid in Storybrooke.

Most of the town has gathered at the Town Hall where generators are warming the building and residents are huddled, hunch-shouldered among cots and sleeping pads. She’s grateful for the relatively seamless process, Killian and David assisting her in going door to door while she insures that the hospital’s generators are in working order.

It doesn’t sit quite right with her, this sudden winter, of course, but also the ease with which this whole situation has come under her control - with only minimal griping from Grumpy.

That is, until Killian walks into the crowded auditorium with a shivering, black lab puppy tucked under his leather jacket.

Well, crap.

\---

“No.” 

The puppy is coraled between his legs, lolling on its back happily, stomach in the air and tiny teeth nipping at the rings on Killian’s hand.

While the hospital’s generators had been in fantastic working order - which was frankly a surprise given how much trust Emma had in Whale - the Storybrooke Animal Shelter’s backup power supply hadn’t kicked in when the electricity went out. 

A disturbingly few number of pleading looks and several “he can stay until tomorrow but that’s  _it_ ”s later, and Emma Swan suddenly had another - even hairier -  resident in her new apartment. 

“Aw, Swan,” he is smiling with a childish exuberance she hasn’t seen to this point. But it’s not cute, damn it. “It’s perfect for him. Just look at him.”

On cue, the puppy attempts to jump at Killian’s chin, only to be thwarted by his own enthusiasm - tumbling in a confused tangle of tail and limbs. 

“Killian. You are  _not_ naming the dog David.” 

The pirate pays her no attention, scratching at the belly of the little beast who will most certainly not be named after father. 

“You hear that, David?” Killian speaks in a voice that can only be described as  _sweet_ , and she would be annoyed as hell if she weren’t also so wildly amused. “Swan doesn’t accept your noble brow and quiet dignity.”

The dog lunges for a dust mote, and misses, tripping over Killian’s knee.

She breathes in deeply, counts backwards from ten. “Fine. If you don’t want to try to stay on my father’s good side, that is your decision. But I want no part of this.”

\--- 

Henry buys Killian a red dog collar with a silver tag that reads  _David_.

Because now her own son is on her sort-of-boyfriend’s side, apparently. 

But even Emma has to admit that the three of them chasing each other around the house - and really, there is no clear leader of that misfit pack of wild things - is a pretty wonderful sight. 

Killian’s taken to calling him Bosun - “ _He’s clearly not firstmate material, Swan”_ \- and Bosun bobs after him anywhere Killian traverses - from fridge to couch to Granny’s and back.

“I’m actually kind of impressed,” Emma admits one evening. The couch is empty, and she’s sitting with her back against the front of it, ignoring the quiet hum of the television. Killian’s head is resting in her lamp, eyes closed as he one-handedly strokes the sleeping puppy nestled in the crook of his right arm.

“Mmmm? What’s that love?”

“You’ve trained him well,” Bosun lets out a surprised snort in the midst of some dream, and Killian gently pats his hind quarters reassuringly.

“I was a captain for three hundred years, Swan,” his eyes are still closed, and she rubs her fingertips against the crown of his head, “I do have some experience with authority.”

All is silent for a moment before he adds, “Except with you. Can’t get you to do a bloody thing I ask.”

He’s lucky he’s holding a sleeping puppy or the light tap she gives his chest would have been more of a punch.

\--- 

When Killian ducks into Granny’s five minutes late for their lunch date with snow clinging to his hair and lashes, she breathes a sigh of relief - and when he unzips his coat and pulls a small creature from the deep cowl neck of his woolen sweater, she sighs with contentment. 

That man and his dog.

He sets Bosun down gently on the tile floor next to their booth and gives a single snap of his fingers, and immediately the puppy sits - wagging tail nearly propelling him off the floor.

“Hello, m’lady,” he presses a kiss against her lips and takes his seat across from her. “We’ve just returned from the docks, haven’t we, Bosun?” 

A single, proud yap is all that Killian’s newest crewmate offers, and goddamn if she doesn’t melt.

It’s a new routine they’ve carved out, the three of them meeting once a week - sometimes twice - for lunch. And if Emma didn’t admire Killian’s compassion and pure capacity to be good  _before_ , she certainly does now - admires the kind way he places the dish of evenly cut giblets on the ground in front of the little lab, the way both he and his shadow chew in a strangely mirrored dignity. 

“Swan?” 

She’s jolted out of her wanderings only to find the puppy and her puppy pirate staring at her with the same wide eyes, the same tilted head.

 “Yeah,” she reaches down to scratch Bosun behind the ears, then returns her hand to the table to tangle in Killian’s. “Yeah, sorry.”

\---

It’s after eleven when she opens the door to their apartment, when she can finally kick off her shoes in relief.

All is silent, and she makes quiet movements in an attempt not to wake any soul - human or canine. 

She’s making a beeline for their bedroom when she does a double take. Upon further investigation, a moving, snoring heap on the couch, turns out to be a sweatpants-clad pirate and an apneic labrador. 

Killian’s right arm is wrapped around the dog - who in turn has made himself quite at home on his master’s chest - and the two are inhaling and exhaling in unison. There’s no way Killian had intended to fall asleep like this; no dogs on the furniture is the one sticking point she’s had despite protests from all parties.

She settles into the cushion at his hip and run her fingers gently at the stubborn hair curling over his forehead. “Hey, sleepyhead.” 

One eye struggles open, and his mouth lifts in a sleep-laden smile. “Wasn’t expecting you home yet, love.” 

He’s not entirely telling the truth, because he and his companion faithfully wait for her safe return every evening, wagging bodies and infectious joy greeting her the moment she enters.

“Mmm,” she cups his cheek, thumbs his stubble, and brings her lips to his, “I can see that.”

“Swan,” one peck, then another, “I know you’re adamant about keeping David off the sofa, but he was rather lonely on the floor. And it’s quite drafty this time of year.”

It’s near impossible to be angry at him when he’s tousled and warm like this, when he’s got an incredibly adorable labrador atop him - so, so small against the broad expanse of his tee shirted chest. 

Standing, she pushes off her jeans, and throws them at the armchair. “Budge over,” she demands softly.

 Man and dog clear a space on the couch, and she settles in next to them, weaving her bare legs with his.

 Her eyes aren’t even closed for ten seconds when Killian’s voice rumbles through her, “Now, about letting him sleep on the  _bed-”_

“Good _night_ , Killian.” 


End file.
